Twisted Fairytales
by blueturtlepower4ever
Summary: These are a series of unrelated Twisted Fairytales, written by me and my best friend Natalie. They are both retellings and original story's. I hope you enjoy, wandrery browsers. Seriously, how did you find this in the Misc. Books section? Anyway, enjoy the laughter!


**Hi! My friend Natalie and I were bored in school a couple of days ago, so we decided to rewrite Goldilocks And The Three Bears. We passed the paper back and forth, until the story was done. Here is the final product. Enjoy!**

A Twisted Fairytale : Goldilocks And The Three Bears

* * *

Once Upon A Time . . .

There was a little stupid girl named Goldilocks. She was a few Fruit Loops short of the bowl, so one day she went wandering in the woods without telling anyone where she was going.

A few miles in she found an old cabin and since it was getting dark, she decided to go in. Passing by the large "Keep Out!" And "All Trespassers Will Be Shot!" signs, she walked right in.

Inside, the smell of porridge drifted towards her and she followed the scent into the kitchen. There, 3 bowls were laid out on a table.

One bowl was the size of a pizza pan, and the porridge inside had been burnt beyond belief. Goldilocks picked up a conveniently placed spoon and took a bite. She quickly spat it back out. "Yuck! This porridge is too hot and crusty!"

Then she moved to the next bowl. This one was slightly smaller and had a floral pattern around the rim. She tentatively took a bite of the porridge in this bowl. When she could finally get a scoop, that was. The porridge was practically a block of ice. She stuck it in her mouth, then spat it back out, watching it shatter against the wall. "Absolutely not!" She cried. "Far too cold!"

Finally she moved to the last bowl. It was smaller than the others. And smells better too, she thought as she took a whiff before closing her eyes and taking a bite.

This porridge wasn't frozen or burnt to a crisp. This porridge actually resembled porridge. Goldilocks decided that this porridge was all right. Now she looked for a chair to sit on as she ate the porridge.

She walked into what she assumed was the family room. There were three chairs. The first was a jewel-encrusted throne. She sat down on the throne, but found that while it was quite extravagant, the throne was extremely uncomfortable. It was hard and cold and could definitely use a pillow. So she moved on to the next chair.

This one was a very tall rocking chair. So tall, in fact, that she had to hoist herself up to reach the seat. It had several cushions on it, and when she sat down, she sank into the chair. She tried to get out, but she kept sinking down and down and down. When she lost all feeling in her legs, she started to panic, and finally broke through. She scurried to the other side of the room on her hands and knees, as far away as she could from the evil chair.

The last chair was a simple cushioned armchair cover in plaid fabric. She sat in the chair and immediately felt relaxed. This chair was comfortable and not evil.

She ate the porridge, doing her best not to spill any. When she finished, she stood up and yawned. She was tired and full, far too much so to walk home. So she decided she would spend the night at the strange home in the woods.

She creeped back into the kitchen and grabbed a steak knife, then climbed the stairs to the bedrooms, opening the first one.

The bed in this room was wooden with a thin mattress. She gently sat down on it, and a dangerously sharp spring ripped through the mattress. Goldilocks quickly stood back up. Maybe she should sleep in a different bed. She scurried into the next room.

The next room's bed was moved in pillows and blankets. Much safer, she thought. She jumped onto the bed and almost immediately drowned in the pillows and blankets. She kicked around, trying to find a way out. Her breath started running out, and she started panicking.

That's when she remembered the knife. She slashed and sliced and diced and stabbed until she spilled out onto the floor. She gasped for air, then bolted out the room.

Cautiously, she opened the last door, holding her knife out in front of her in a defensive position, scared a giant pillow might leap out and attack her. When none did, she stepped into the room and saw the bed was pushed neatly against a wall and was decorated with one large pillow and two smaller ones with a light blue blanket on top. She very carefully sat down on the bed. When she didn't drown and nothing threatened to impale her, she laid down. This bed was perfect. She slipped her knife under the pillow and nodded off.

* * *

Thump! Thump! Thump! Goldilocks jumped out of the bed and slipped her hand under the pillow. There was someone in the house!

"Someone's been sleeping in my bed!" A low-pitched yet loud voice called out. Goldilocks slowly, quietly made her way to the door.

"Someone's been sleeping in my bed as well!" A high-pitched, snobby sounding voice said. "And they've torn it to shreds." It said, scandalized.

Goldilocks made it to the door and pressed her back up against the wall, both hands wrapping around the handle of the steak knife.

The door then opened and a small bear club of all things toddled in. Goldilocks' eyes grew wide in surprise and disbelief.

Noticing the bed with its mussed sheets and covers, and its wrinkled pillows, the bear club spoke, to Goldilocks shock.

"Someone's been sleeping in my bed!" The bear club said. Goldilocks let out a squeak of surprise.

The bear club turned.

Goldilocks' grip on the knife tightened.

A fearful glint appeared in the cubs eyes.

Goldilocks raised her her hands high above her head.

The bear opened his mouth. "And she's -"

Goldilocks brought her hands and the the knife clutched between them down.

* * *

Stepping across the huge bearskin rug in her living room, Goldilocks made her way to the entrance hall. Her supplies were short this winter, so she was forced to trudge out into the bitter snow to head to town to get some. There were always some greedy traders who had bought and saved extra food to sell in the bleak winter months. Cursing herself for not buying enough this year, Goldilocks slipped in her bearskin overcoat, her bearskin hat, and her bearskin gloves. She checked to make sure her knife was secured in its sheath, stepped outside, and closed the door behind her. She didn't bother locking it. There was no one in a 50-mile radius who hadn't heard about Bear Killer Goldie.

**I hope you enjoyed this! Definitely not your average ending to this story. **

**Natalie and I have written other things like this, and whenever I find the time, I'll type them up and post them. The next story is an original about a pig named Jerry.**

**I hope you enjoyed this Twisted Fairytale.**

**-Katana**


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